


Back Before We Were Brittle

by Fitzsimmonshield (fitzsimmonsshield)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agents of SHIELD, Canon Divergent, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, There will be violence, slightly hurt/comfort, there will be blooood, there will be fladoodle times maybe if you're good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzsimmonsshield/pseuds/Fitzsimmonshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite some time passing, Jemma hasn't gotten over the events that took place when Coulson and Fitz returned from Maveth. With a new opportunity to rebuild SHIELD now that Hydra seemingly weakened, Fitz and Simmons venture to their old stomping grounds to work, and that's not all they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to take a quick break from fanfic writing after my gallant NaNoWriMo fic fest. But, now that we're on hiatus, my mind tugged me to write this. 
> 
> This chapter title is named after 'Like Dogs' by Pegasus Bridge. 
> 
> The title of this fic is named after 'Back Before We Were Brittle' by Say Hi.
> 
> I recommend listening to both these songs while reading this chapter. I'd also recommend 'Take Me Home' by After Midnight Project, and, 'It's Thunder and It's Lightening' by We Were Promised Jetpacks. These songs are weighed heavily on me when writing.

Jemma turned her head sideways, as if the tilt would give her better clarification of what she was looking at. It was for sure a dead body, but there was something very peculiar about it.

Fitz hung back several feet, knotting his knuckles over and over again and pacing hurriedly enough that a darkened line appeared on the carpet he trotted on.

Jemma stooped closer to the body. A spigot was hanging from the person’s thigh, and the handle part was open, letting blood slowly drip out into a well placed and almost overfilled bucket.

“I’m no detective but this looks like humorism,” Jemma observed. 

“This is no time to be cracking jokes, Jemma,” Daisy said from her perch in the corner. She wasn’t going to go close to the body either.

“Humorism is- for Christ sake, it’s one of the reasons your first president passed away,” Jemma lost her cool for a moment, forgetting not everyone in the world had as massive of a brain that stored far too much information in their heads as she did.

“Still not understanding,” Daisy piped up.

“Humorism was a form of medicine beginning in ancient times that dealt with bloodletting,” Fitz took over, his pacing had slowed down, he lifted his head to speak to Daisy.

“And how did George Washington die of that… we were always taught he died from pneumonia,” Daisy countered.

Jemma straightened up, removing her rubber gloves. As she approached Fitz, he stopped moving completely, and the three of them stood in a triangle formation. Jemma crossed her arms and leaned heavily on her left foot. And sometimes, when Jemma just had too much information, she had to burst with it.

“Humorism believed that the excess or deficiency of four bodily fluids- blood, black, phlegm and yellow- known as the humors, directly influenced a person’s health. It was believed that if these four humors were balanced, a person would be healthy, but if they were unbalanced they would be unhealthy or diseased. This form of medicine was believed for more than 2,000 years, ceasing sometime in the 1800’s, but beginning with the Aryuveda and catching on with the Ancient Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, and so on…. Each humor correlated to a season as well, and-,” once Jemma had hit the second sentence she began to fly off words until Daisy had to stop her.

“Chill, Jemma, I just want to know how did Washington die from it?” Daisy had said, putting a hand up between them to calm her.

“Your president had been out riding in the rain and cold, and like a gentleman of his time did not change his clothes since dinner was ready, and yes, it is likely that he caught pneumonia from that being that he was getting on in years. He woke up very sick the next day with terrible inflammation in his throat and three doctors were called. Each doctor ordered a bloodletting, trying to get whatever plagued him out. All in all, they drained… five pints of blood, coupled with his dehydration and several other factors, humorism is a major, if not, the cause of his death,” Jemma informed. 

Daisy stared back at her incredulously. 

“Hmm, okay…” she mused, now uninterested in the topic.

“And why would Hydra be doing this to a person if it’s defunct?” Daisy peered over Jemma’s shoulder to the body in the center of the room. Hydra had been mostly quiet in the aftermath, but this was the third strange murder they had come across with links to Hydra.

Jemma sighed. “It’s not completely defunct, it is still a viable option, say, if someone’s blood pressure is too high and a few other medical conditions. But, this doesn’t look like a medical emergency, does it? In fact, I think this may be ritualistic, but we’d have to call in a specialist on that sort of thing. I know nothing of the occult.”

And with that, Jemma twisted on her heels and exited the room in a huff. 

“What’s up with her?” Daisy said, once Jemma was out of earshot.

Fitz hesitated. He had an inkling about what was wrong, but he could never be sure, not lately, not after the past two years. Tucking his tablet under his arm, he sighed, and volunteered to talk to Jemma.

Jemma went where he expected she would, to the lab. Ever since the events in the castle and Coulson and Fitz returning from Maveth, she had been quiet. Fitz believed she would be resigned for some time, but it was going on three months, and that prolonged sadness could not be healthy. She had quipped at other teammates too in the past week, and not just Daisy. Finding her was easy, Jemma had stuck to a routine so succinctly the past few weeks, Fitz could pinpoint her whereabouts to a tee. Oftentimes she was in the lab, her head deep into reading or working on a paper for a scientific journal. 

That’s where he found her now, on the small, but workable lab on the Zephyr One, unloading her data from the scene. It was empty in this lab, no technicians buzzing around like at the Playground. He glided into the room silently, and slowly, and brought attention to himself by lightly knocking his knuckles on the steel table Jemma leaned over. She looked up from her tablet as Fitz set his down beside her.

“Hey,” he said, simply.

“Hi, Fitz,” a tone in her voice told Fitz she was still high-strung and hadn’t cooled down.

He played with his fingers for a second; he hadn’t planned on what to say after hello. She stared at him for an extended moment, and then focused back on her tablet. The way her eyes wandered over to him made it clear she wasn’t focusing on the information. He slunk down on the chair next to her, and leaned an arm on the table.

“Have you given thought to what Coulson gave us?” Fitz finally said. He tried to look anywhere else but at her, but in the small laboratory there wasn’t anything more interesting to look at then her. Nowadays if he looked at her for too long he would have to actively stop himself from looking at her mouth, and he didn’t want her to catch him doing that. 

“I know that’s not what you want to ask me,” her voice softened, and she set down her tablet, twisting so the side of her body pressed against the table but faced him. Despite Daisy thinking the opposite, Jemma had heard her comment.

Fitz could feel a ringing begin in his ears. The tinnitus was a result of the brain injury that popped up every once and a while. He was used to it by now, and only grimaced for a short bit. Jemma could tell what his screwed up facial expression meant.

“Just ask me,” her voice was low as she sank into the chair she had earlier foregone.

“It’s just that, you’ve been so down lately. And… and I know you said you wanted to go through it alone and without my help on this one, but I’m worried, it’s been some time now, Jemma,” his focus had returned to her, where he stared directly at her.

Jemma inhaled and closed her eyes to help prep her statement. Her hands balled up into loose fists in her lap.

“I’d…I’d like to put together a memorial service and proper burial for Will. I know we don’t have his body or really anything to bury, but I think he deserves that in the very least,” she said quietly. 

Whatever Fitz had concocted in his mind for what had been bothering her was worse then what she actually said. 

“I agree, I’m there to help with whatever you need,” Fitz replied, the nervousness in his voice before evaporating.

A very faint smile dashed across Jemma’s lips. He had looked again.

“He’d like that,” she added.

Fitz couldn’t help but offer a small smile in return. He tapped his knuckles twice on the table and lifted from his chair, swooping up his tablet. As he began to exit he mentioned something about talking about ideas for the funeral.

“Fitz,” she stopped him in his tracks. Like her voice did every time.

He itched the top of his ear, the tinnitus still hadn’t dissipated, and turned back to her.

“I want to take Coulson’s job. But it’s only contingent if you are as well, because I can’t do that alone. All my memories of the Academy have you in them and I couldn’t rebuild it… without you there,” Jemma had stood up too. And her voice, although quiet, resounded with confidence.

Fitz smiled a bit wider then he had before.

“Good, good, I thought the same. We can plan the service for next week then before we have to leave,” he said.

“Yeah…” she said faintly, but her voice tapered off like she was going to start saying something else. 

“I’ll call a meeting with Coulson later so we can go over those details,” Fitz added before exiting the laboratory.

Jemma let out the breath she was holding and pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead, curling in the fingers so they gently entangled in her hairline. She let herself down, once again, closing up when she should be reaching out. She made a promise to do better next time before sitting back down. She sat for a while in the lab, the humming of spectrometers and other gadgets the only sound. After a few minutes, she picked back up her tablet and once again leaned in to the work at hand.


	2. In the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma holds Will's memorial service and Fitzsimmons share a laugh at the word topless. No really, this is what happens. And more stuff! Scouts honor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title named after In the Darkness by Oxygen

The idea Fitz had for a burial ceremony and the idea Jemma had were two completely different lines of thought. Fitz had thought she meant a big fanfare, an occasion with pomp and circumstance. But it was to his surprise where all she wanted was for Will to have a headstone, a wreath of flowers, and a minute along to grieve or mourn or whatever she felt necessary. She hadn’t cried when she spent that time kneeling next to his gravestone, so Fitz wasn’t sure what she was thinking. He couldn’t read if she was still hurt or still in love. Her team stood off to the side, just watching Jemma have her moment, and then she rejoined Fitz who stood off by himself. 

She announced that they were done, thanked them for coming, and headed back to the plane by herself. Fitz was about to jog to catch up with her until Mack placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I think it’s best you let her have some time alone, Turbo,” the newly minted director said.

Coulson hadn’t relinquished full power over to Mack, but the two men were more of a team now leading SHIELD. Coulson was sharing Fury’s toolbox with Mack, bringing him up to protocols. One day, Mack would be the sole director, Coulson was sure of it. Where Coulson failed, Mack didn’t. 

Fitz’ chest heaved out of frustration. He didn’t know what the right thing to do was anymore, it never seemed to work out for him.

Sometime later, when the team was back at the Playground, Jemma emerged to make herself dinner later in the evening. Daisy, had passed by the kitchen, and saw Jemma scrubbing away at her hands. Daisy then told Fitz who had been looking for her. Fitz lightly knocked on the doorframe before entering the kitchen.

Jemma stayed quiet, but acknowledged he was there with a nod and slight smile. She concentrated on chopping some vegetables. Fitz stood on the other side of the counter.

“It was very nice what you did for Will today,” he said, his hands found their way to his hips. She did not look up but instead scooped the chopped vegetables into a frying pan on the stove.

“Yeah, least I could do,” she said softly.

Then silence, uncomfortable silence. But Fitz didn’t want the conversation to end there. He scanned the room to find something to talk about, and then walked over to look at one of the ‘windows.’ The picture was set to a nighttime landscape of the pyramids in Giza. A silly thought popped into Fitz’ head, causing him to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Jemma inquired, she had her back turned to him, and was stirring a wooden spoon in the pan.

“Oh… oh, I thought about what Koenig told us when we first came to the Playground. When he explained the windows to us… said Wednesdays were topless or something,” Fitz said amusedly, looking back around to Jemma.

She turned back, too, and the unmistakable look of a smile was planted on her face.

“And that first Wednesday we were actually here and it ended up being topless cars,” she added.

Both of them shared a smile, and the want to laugh.

“Hungry?” she asked after a moment. She added in some seasonings she had lined upon the counter next to the stove.

“You know you don’t have to ask that,” he said, moving to the cabinets to pull out two dishes and utensils. Fitz followed up y pulling two beers out of the refrigerator, passing one to Jemma after he opened the lid.

A few minutes later, Jemma dished out the stir-fry on to the plates, and they sat at the counter.

“I’ve been thinking about the Academy plans, and, I don’t know what we’ll be walking into, and how much work needs to be done, but, I think we should include… include a field training area. Just things like how to get out of sticky situations or procedurals for Inhuman or Index-worthy people,” she said, washing the disjointed sentence down with a swig of her beer.

“That’s reasonable. We could call in Daisy and Lincoln to consult,” Fitz replied.

Jemma made a small noise at the sound of Lincoln’s name. It was low, and a clear indication that something about Lincoln had disgruntled her.

“Daisy yes, Lincoln, not so much,” she said to support her noise.

Fitz didn’t say anything, but gave her a look that warranted her to continue. She set her fork down and smoothed out the napkin she had placed on her lap. It was the first time they had actually sat down and had a conversation that wasn’t contingent to their work in months.

“Lincoln had a word with me after you and Coulson returned from the planet. He, uh, voiced how angry he was that I let Andrew out,” she said.

Fitz had seen it. Not Lincoln confronting her, but in the past few weeks he could see Lincoln going out of his way to avoid her. 

“You know it’s not your fault Lash killed those Inhumans,” Fitz replied.

The statement did little to comfort Jemma. Her hands, still on her lap, clawed in to her thighs. 

“Try telling my nightmares that, Fitz. Try getting off the blood I keep trying to wash off my hands,” she pushed her half-eaten plate to the center of the counter. She had suddenly lost her appetite. Jemma did have a bit of flair for the dramatics, but the Lady Macbeth reference was lost on Fitz, who then looked at their actual hands to see if there was blood on them. She moved them to grip the side of the counter as she stood up.

She didn’t storm out of the room. The undemanding tone in her voice was indicative that she wasn’t exactly upset.

“Because of me, all those Inhumans are dead, all those people. Because I was too scared to do the right thing and keep him contained, it’s an indisputable fact, Fitz, and I can’t continue to not acknowledge it,” her face bore a mark of pain on it.

Fitz sat still, staring up at her. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and placed the napkin on the counter beside her dish. Fitz had noted her hair had grown back past her shoulders, and she started to straighten it again. She even wore a headband one day two weeks ago. She looked down to Fitz.

“This Academy job will be good for me, being here has been stressful,” Jemma sighed, picking up her dish to toss the food away.

“It’ll be good for us, yeah?” Fitz said, meekly, holding the neck of his beer bottle. It was the boldest thing he had said to her since that night in the lab when he kissed her, and she kissed him back.

There was a pause in the sound of Jemma’s fork scraping the face of the plate. A second later the scratching noise picked up again, and she turned to place the plate in the dishwasher.

“Goodnight, Fitz,” she said, her voice eerily calm and relaxed. She grabbed her bottle off the counter and exited the room.

Fitz was completely unsure of what to make about that conversation. Downing his beer, he finished up eating, cleaned up the array of dirty dishes she had left from cooking, and headed down to his own bunk. He would need to start packing for their Academy trip.


	3. Chemical Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy throws a going away party for Fitzsimmons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title named after Chemical Ride by 3 Years Hollow.
> 
> There's a song that I posted the lyrics to in here. I highly, HIGHLY recommend you listen to while it happens. It's likely you've never heard it before, but it is so perfect for the setting (and who it relates to)
> 
> There's a quick note after this chapter as well ;)

Despite many things changing in Jemma’s life over the past two years, one that hadn’t was the constant thrill of science. And while she couldn’t find the solutions to the corporeal problems in her life at the moment, she could take out a microscope or a scalpel and solve the scientific dilemmas at hand. 

After eating dinner with Fitz, Jemma took her tablet filled with all the lab notes from the three Hydra ritual murders to her room to try and take a stab at it again. She was no detective, but the peculiarity of these murders is what struck her, and if there were any telling signs that may lead to answers in the science, she’d try for it.

Changing into pajamas, Jemma slipped under her covers and perched the tablet on her lap. Her mind did not focus on the work, and her distraction led to succumbing to sleep. Soon the device slipped to her side as her nearly unconscious body sank lower in the bed, and pulled the covers to her shoulders.

With just a few days before Fitz and Simmons were to depart, Daisy was determined to lighten up the Playground. She could recall so vividly how much fun they all had when they worked on The Bus. Back then; things were so much less complicated. Daisy didn’t know her identity, and even the memories of Ward joining in to play board games didn’t seem so bad. Then again, Daisy felt such a relief that Ward was taken out. She knew it wasn’t the most moral kill in history, but the fact remained that he could no longer hurt her or her friends and teammates.

With the Playground mostly processing materials from the Hydra murder they had discovered the day before, there wasn’t much work for Daisy to do. She spent time with Mack and Coulson developing recruitment methods, ones that fit into the same plans of rebuilding the Academies. That’s where Fitz and Simmons came in, they, along with Agent Weaver, were some of the only agents qualified to design what the new facility would need. May had been trying to get approval to head up the construction for Operations, but both Coulson and Mack would only let her be a consultant on it, she couldn’t leave the Playground for an extended period of time like Fitz and Simmons were being allowed to. 

Daisy corralled the team to the recreational room after the long day. There were drinks already being poured and Mack already had his hands on a controller playing Halo, when Simmons joined the party. Hunter was cozied up to Bobbi in a corner, and Lincoln stuck close to Daisy. He gave her a disapproving look when he saw her come through the door.

Nervous, Jemma sauntered over to the snack table to join Joey, who was enjoying himself manipulating a fork into different shapes. Jemma watched him for a few moments, she hadn’t gotten to know Joey all that well since she was back, but the few times she chatted she really liked him. She supposed his sunny disposition was because he hadn’t experienced the kind of loss everyone else on the team has, yet.   
“Ah, so you’re the culprit who has been leaving bent utensils all over the kitchen,” Jemma remarked playfully, watching Joey twist the fork into a pretzel shape with just the momentum of his mind.

Joey laughed and stopped playing with his power.

“SHIELD gonna start charging me for that?” he joked in response.

Jemma opened a beer and pulled a plate of vegetables and dip together. She smiled at him in return.

“Your power is quite remarkable, Joey,” she complimented.

Jemma glanced around the room again, and saw Lincoln quickly turn away from staring at her. He was making her so uncomfortable. Joey noticed the bad blood between the two.

“You know, if it’s worth anything, I don’t blame you for what happened with Lash,” he said quietly. It was in a serious tone, something Jemma hadn’t heard from him. Jemma nearly choked on her celery stalk.

“Thank you, I do suppose I should try an extend an olive branch to him. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me but it just is the right thing to do,” she replied. Joey nodded at her, encouraging her to try. Jemma set down her plate, and began crossing the room while taking a swig of the beer. A little liquid courage couldn’t hurt.

But just as she made it halfway across the room, Hunter slammed his fists against the top of a pinball machine, dejected from a loss. The banging noise made everyone jump a bit, as they were always on edge in their line of work, and when Jemma went to look around, she spotted Fitz entering the room and headed straight for her.

“Oh, hi Fitz,” she said, pausing in her steps and turning to face him.

“Just got word from Coulson that Agent Weaver will be joining us in two weeks at the Academy,” he huffed; clearly he rushed over from Coulson’s office. He put his hands on his hips. 

Jemma’s forehead scrunched up, “Oh, so she delayed on us then.” 

She didn’t have anything else to say, and turned to look for Lincoln again, but he was gone. She sighed.

It seemed to be the cue for Daisy to make an announcement. She clicked on a small box next to the TV and grabbed a microphone and declared it was karaoke time. The room halted, as if she had pulled the rug from right under them.

“In your dreams, love,” Hunter groaned from the corner. 

Instead, Joey stepped up to the plate. And his small gesture cut through the intensity of the room. Three songs in, with Daisy and Joey teaming up to sing ‘Stayin’ Alive,’ the team has loosened up greatly. And Jemma, feeling confidence built in her (or perhaps the two shots she took with Hunter and Bobbi), took the microphone in hand.

“I haven’t done this since the Academy,” she giggled as she selected the song. Fitz crossed his arms and leaned against a column of bricks, smirking as she saw her song selection.

Everyone was just about to be treated to a Jemma specialty. 

A steady kick drum and repetitive beat started the song, and after a brief instrumental interlude, Jemma opened her mouth, not to sing, but to rap.

The song she selected was ‘Chemical Calisthenics’ by Blackilicious and she learned this rap during a tense finals week and a dare by Fitz. She rapped it at karaoke night at The Boiler Room, and became more then a legend just for her intelligence that night. 

Neutron, proton, mass effect, lyrical oxidation, yo irrelevant  
Mass spectrograph, your electron volt, atomic energy erupting  
As I get all open on betacron, gamma rays thermo cracking  
Cyclotron and any and every mic   
You're on trans iridium, if you're always uranium  
Molecules, spontaneous combustion, pow…

Jemma started the rap in a bit of a half laugh. But as the song progressed and the cheers of her teammates egged her on, she stopped blushing and continued on strongly. She ended it like a pro, nailing the speedy part of the rap, and in trying to be tough, she struck a pose, pouted, and dropped the mic. She quickly picked the mic back up after the feedback nearly made everyone deaf.

“Holy shit, Simmons, where the heck did you learn that?” Daisy exclaimed, clamoring over to her to shake her shoulders in excitement.

“We learned a bit more then science at the Academy, Daisy,” she laughed, taking a small bow as everyone still lauded her. 

Moseying over to the beer again, Jemma popped open another bottle.

“And that’s what you guys will miss,” she called out to the room. She was still laughing, her body so overwhelmed by excitement. She leaned against the wall, slightly hiding away in the corner. And just as fast as the laughter had come, Jemma succumbed to a wave of sadness, the smile evaporating from her lips almost instantaneously. She clenched her fingers around the bottle and brought it to her lips, her eyes bore the telltale signs of melancholy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, next chapter starts a ton more plot building, I promise. I just needed to fit in some early points before we progress, and didn't want to pace it too fast :D


	4. Hometown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Simmons settle in to their new digs and experience some familiarities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for baring with me in this posting gap! I got so busy with the holidays and work I just didn't have the time. 
> 
> Wah-la!

Two days later, Fitz and Simmons found themselves walking down the ramp of Zephyr One, looking at the crumbling infrastructure of their alma mater. They both took pause, to look at the desolate brutalist-style buildings.

They had spent years here, and to see the campus in such disarray was a shock. Most of it was still intact, but the walls were crumbling, the once green hills surrounding the main academic building had turned in to yellow grass. Debris littered the grounds, leaving a very pitiful sight in front of them.

“Okay you two, Coulson said you would know where the Dean’s house is, that’s where you’re headed,” Bobbi walked up to them and extended a key on a silver chain.

“It’s like returning to Pride Rock after Scar’s been ruling for awhile,” Bobbi additionally mentioned to the amusement of only herself. Her comment fell on deaf ears from the science duo.

“A key, really?” Fitz stated. He thought it would be a lot harder to get into a SHIELD facility other then a physical key.

“Oh, Coulson added there may be a Sphinx guarding it,” Bobbi added, handing the key over to them. 

After taking out the SUV loaned to them for use, and unloading all of the equipment they needed as well as supplies, Fitz and Simmons unlocked the Dean’s house where they were to set up camp. Electricity hadn’t been set up yet, and Fitz quickly rigged a generator to get their corner of the campus up and kicking. Jemma didn’t seem him much as he worked on that, but he did hear him in passing mention how there ‘were no blood Sphinxes.’

Jemma got done to business as well, she claimed one of the bedrooms in the quaint colonial style house and then pulled up the schematics and blueprints of the campus on the mobile holographic table. The Dean’s house had been ransacked during the fall of SHIELD, but other then things like broken lamps and tables, it was structurally intact, that’s why Coulson had placed them in there. On the blueprints she flagged the most optimal route for assessing the damage on the campus and what were the most important parts of the facility. She had been compiling lists to record data about what would be salvageable, what would need to be rebuilt and what could be added on. She had talked to Daisy yesterday about her idea to include Inhuman, or rather enhanced human amenities. She was pretty much on board, but Jemma really had to nail it home that it wasn’t for the exploitation of humans with abilities. And, nothing would be cleared without Daisy’s consent.

Jemma left the blueprints up along with the ‘to-do’ list for Fit to take a look at. She grabbed a roll of trash bags and rubber gloves from one of their boxes of supplies and started cleaning the bathroom next to her room and then moved on to the kitchen. She was tired after cleaning the two rooms, but knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep in an equally filthy bedroom. 

As Jemma swept up the pulverized remains of a lamp, one of the last things on the floor to be picked up before she could mop the dark wood, Fitz knocked on the archway of the room.

“Hey so, I looked over the blueprints, and it’s a good idea you have to start with the academic buildings. Can I recommend we see The Boiler Room, first? For old times sake?” he said, casually leaning against the doorframe. 

Jemma looked up form her spot on the floor in the corner of the room. The natural light was fading fast as late afternoon approached. The light that did trickle in through the ragged curtains was honey golden colored. Fitz stood in the perfect spot to be engulfed by the light, which cast a long shadow behind him out into the hallway. 

“Yeah sure, Fitz, that would be nice,” she said, placing a large chunk of porcelain into a bulging trash bag. 

Fitz clapped his hands together, as if he was off to go and undertake some important project.

“Right, so… I’m going to head into town to pick up some dinner. What do you want?” Fitz had begun to back out of the room, and his hand was already searching in his pocket for the car key.

Jemma couldn’t help but let a big smile develop across her face.

“Dominick’s,” she said with confidence. Fitz didn’t have to answer; instead a smile found its way across his face and found he ambled over to the staircase. He shouted something about staying close to her phone in case anything were to happen while he was out.

A few minutes later, Jemma had finished all that she could for the day, the last thing she did was make her bed, and throw sheets in the room Fitz had claimed to make his. She made some room on the kitchen counter for the grocery bags and organized the cabinets. She knew there was always a queue in Dominick’s, the Italian deli down the road and it would be some time. She looked out through the dining room windows at the sunset, having a flashback of the apartment she lived in when she was undercover. The thought prompted her to make some tea and savor how oddly nice that memory was for her.

Jemma was just taking the tea kettle off the stove to pour herself a cup when she saw the headlights shine through the dining room windows. The lights soon shut off, followed by the slamming of a car door and the sound of footfalls on gravel. Jemma got to the door before Fitz, and held it open.

“Wow, Fitz, you did a lot more then get the Panini,” she remarked, taking a bag from his full hands and walking with him back indoors. 

“Well, I got excited just looking at all the things in there and so I bought everything we use to buy from there,” he said, setting the bags down on the counter.

Jemma peeked inside the bag she held and could pick out the familiar designs of their favorite snacks and treats. She mused to herself that Fitz always found a way to outdo himself. 

They both had the same idea to cast aside the other bags, and dig right into the Panini. For a good two minutes the kitchen was silent other then the appreciative grunts of two people eating the most delicious thing they had ever sunk their teeth in. 

“You know, Simmons,” Fitz said while simultaneously swallowing and wrestling a piece of tomato back into his mouth.

“I haven’t missed this as much since your Panini’s got so good,” he added, his voice clear.

Jemma accepted the compliment with a smile. She was about to respond vocally when her phone went off. Daisy had sent a text message, asking her to look over the lab results of DNA found at the scenes of the ritualistic Hydra murders. Jemma texted back that she would look at the data after dinner. Her aversion to say anything else out loud caused the rest of dinner to remain quiet. Fitz helped fill the cupboard with the snacks he bought while Jemma took to putting the perishables in the refrigerator. 

Afterwards, Jemma showered, reveling in the cleanliness of the room after she had cleaned it. She had to let the water run for a few minutes to clear dirt from the pips, but once it ran clear, the water was perfectly warm. She wrote up her daily report to Coulson and Mack, and just as Jemma sat down to look over the data Daisy sent, a wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she was soon snoozing away.

She was going to regret not looking at that data earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, it is that panini you're thinking of


	5. Hands Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip through memory lane, and maybe a fall through something else. Jemma shirks responsibility, liquor involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, where this chapter cuts off is intentional. 
> 
> Chapter title inspired by 'Hands Down' by The Greeting Committee. Fantastic song and the lyrics so hauntingly Fitzsimmons.

Jemma was awake before the sunrise as if her body had a calling to never miss another one. She trod downstairs to brew a cup of coffee, and pulled a chair outside to watch the daybreak over the balmy grounds. She was still in her robe and slippers, and sipped gingerly at the cup, admiring the colors she had missed so much. When the colors mellowed into a warm yellow and orange color, Jemma dragged the chair back inside and fished out the bacon and eggs Fitz had bought the night before. 

Once the skillet had heated up, Jemma plopped the fatty strips on its surface and returned to prepping a batch of scrambled eggs. Pretty soon the intoxicating smell of bacon filled the kitchen, and soon the whole house, as a thud upstairs revealed to Jemma that Fitz was awake. A few minutes later and he made his way to the kitchen, having taken a brief shower and dressed. Despite the shower, Fitz had telltale signs of bags under his eyes.

She dressed her scrambled eggs in hot sauce and was nearly finished eating by the time Fitz finally brought over his plate to the island counter. It was still too early for conversation, so the pair ate breakfast in relative silence except for when Jemma went to wash her dish. Fitz said he would clean up down here and Jemma nodded, returning upstairs to prepare for the day.

As she laid several outfits in front of her, a text from Daisy broke up her concentration asking if she had given the data a look over. Jemma wasn’t sure of the urgency of this, but after choosing an outfit, skinny jeans and a jumper over a collared shirt, she sat at her bed and opened the file flagged with the highest level of priority. 

‘This is DNA from an unknown found at all three scenes, have any ideas? I ran it against our database, FBI’s, Interpol’s… nada.’

Jemma scrolled through the markers, piecing together a picture of what this human could be. While she didn’t have a truly eidetic memory, the genetic code of this individual seemed familiar, but ultimately after a few minutes, she set it aside. It was always better to come back to a problem then to dwell on it. 

As Jemma set the tablet on her bed so she could sit and put on her shoes, Fitz knocked on the archway of her door.

“Ready to go?” he asked. 

Soon after they were headed to campus, equipped with Fitz’ dwarves to make the process simplified. They toured the admissions building first but were ultimately bored. As if enacting on a shared thought, Fitz and Simmons headed to their old laboratories and entertained each other with memories. There was laughter and sadness contained in these instances, such as talking about the time they pranked Professor Vaughan so well he never found out it was them. Their collective laughter halted when Fitz brought up how Vaughan had been killed in the Hydra siege. They had never liked the overly antiquated ideological man, whose boring lectures were normally spent as a naptime, but the thought of him being killed here implanted a glaring thought about the people they lost and the wonderful ideas that once flourished in these rooms. Simmons was the first to cave, a shiver running up her spine left her feeling the harrowing effects of the hallowed grounds. By this time it was lunch, and the pair headed back outside to eat boring sandwiches they had hastily made in the morning.

After enjoying the early autumn air, Simmons suggested hitting the Boiler Room. It had been nagging at her all morning to go there, one of the last places she had been when they visited the Academy last to stop the ice problem Donnie has started. Fitz confided that it had been on his mind too, and without a further second to delay they bounded to the direction of their favorite hangout spot.

Fitz pried open the door and they held their breaths.

Walking down the familiar steps, and looking out over the expanse of their old stomping grounds offered some relief in contrast to the destruction they had seen in the other buildings. The Boiler Room had definitely been affected by the siege, but its damage was surface scars, broken lights, the pool table split in two, the space had the same injuries like the Dean’s house they were staying in. They both sighed in relief as they made their way down the stairs, Fitz’ dwarves buzzing around their ears until flying out over the room. 

Fitz and Simmons went in separate directions once they hit the landing. Fitz explored the bar area while Jemma inspected the debris by the stage area. Every so often they would call to each other about something vaguely interesting they found, until Fitz called, quite excitedly, for Jemma to come over and see what he found.

“Apparently, Hydra- and whoever cleaned up a bit after- left the liquor room alone” Fitz had gotten the crowbar he used to shimmy the entrance door to break the door for the locked alcohol storage room. 

“And Bashful here found that it’s fully stocked’” Fitz grunted, while maneuvering the tool. The whole handle came off and the large metallic door popped open an inch. Bashful flew in before Fitz and cast light into the room.

“Is it Happy Hour, yet?” Fitz said jokingly, coming back out with a bottle of vodka in one hand and whiskey in the other. He passed the vodka to Jemma.

“We’re working, Fitz,” she chastised, but she was unscrewing the lid off the bottle. She promptly took a swig and grimaced, replacing the cap and holding it back out to Fitz.

“Try for the top shelf ones, Fitz,” she instructed, not impressed over the cheap vodka he had picked out.

Fitz corrected his mistake and grabbed higher-grade bottles of their preferred alcohols. Jemma cleared a spot on top of the bar and hoisted herself to sit.

"For the ones we lost," Fitz said, adding a poignant moment as he held his bottle out. Jemma echoed, holding hers out as well for a moment. As if synchronized, they took a long drink from their respective bottles.

“Almost like home,” Fitz said with a chuckle, changing the topic. He had opted to stand and drink, looking out over the room. His mind was filling in the emptiness with the sights and sounds that were once familiar to him. He pointed to the rafters, where there was still a dent on one of the vents.

“Do you remember when-,” Fitz began speaking. But Jemma quickly scooped in to complete the sentence.

“When Deepak tried to show off his batched Iron Man-wannabe flight suit and banged into the vents,” she finished, laughing into bottle before tipping it to her lips. After taking a swig she wiped the alcohol still on her lips with the back of her wrist.

“You know, I think we should just clean up the Boiler Room and not rebuild it or change it,” Jemma added. Fitz gave her a look that pressed her to continue. 

“Ever since the 60’s each class of cadets brought something different to it, the next class will be tasked to do the same.”

After another half hour of regaling each other of memories, Fitz remarked that the Boiler Room wasn’t the same without a little music, and remarked he’d be back in a few minutes with a remedy. All alone, Jemma checked her phone, which had no service in this area. Bored, she filled her time with the alcohol and let her mind wander to how she felt about the Academy and how it felt to be back. 

Fitz ran out of the Boiler Room so quick he hadn’t even set the bottle of whiskey down, and he had lugged it with him to grab some equipment. He lightened his load a bit by taking large swigs. Back at the house he stuffed a music player and portable generator on to a cart. He just about was out the door when he grabbed a couple of glasses and orange juice, remembering Jemma didn’t like straight alcohol all that much.

On his way back, the grey sky did as grey skies do, and began to rain, he scrambled to move the equipment on to the lower rack of the cart where they would be protected from the rain, but it only left him drenched. He hurried back to their old hangout spot, running carefully as to not topple over his bottle of whiskey.

He left the cart at the entrance and carried the equipment down in two trips; Jemma’s voice an octave higher calling out about his appearance. Connecting the cords to the sound player and generator, he went to tease about her apparent intoxication, but the way he fiddled with the wires made him realize all too well that he was no longer sober.

When the music began streaming out of the player, Jemma had already mixed herself a drink with the orange juice and cups he had brought. She stood on top of the bar, watching his across the room, lightly swaying to the indie rock.

When Fitz had fully configured the makeshift music setup, he stood proudly in front of it with his hands at his hips, still dripping from the rain.

“Come here,” Jemma said spritely. She gestured with her hand for him to come over, and once he began his trek across the space, she lowered herself back down to sit upon the surface. Fitz stopped right before he would collide with her knees, and she promptly sat her cup aside.

“You poor sopping mess,” she laughed, the tip of her nose reddening in the wake of the drink. Fitz smirked, and looked off to the side to feign being bothered by the baby talk. 

“You should at least take off that sweater before you catch your death,” she added, and although it was an instruction, her hands found their way to the collar of the sweater before he could even move.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, however it is to be looked at, the sweater was soaked right through; his dress shirt clung to his skin. Jemma tossed the sweater aside. Fitz looked down to his chest and lightly shook his head, droplets of water splaying out to splash across his shoulders and her knees.

“Now that just won’t do either,” he said, pinching the material. His voice had dropped low, and the shift had completely changed the atmosphere in the room. It was no longer two drunk friends having a laugh. His serious tone, remarking on the sorry state of his clothing, sounded similarly gruff to the afternoon him and Jemma had lashed out their frustrations with each other. His accent had even thickened.

Fitz hands paused on the top button, his fingertips lightly shaking as he tried to free the circular piece of plastic. His eyes blurred with the water dripping from his hairline. Like a predator launching at its prey, Jemma’s hands were on top of his, knocking them out of the way to do the job herself, and she was much quicker, completely focused on the task. After the first button was freed, she quickly lowered to the next, and Fitz lifted his head to look at her. Her eyebrows knitted in concentration, her eyes wandering from button to button. Feeling what he thought was rage, he latched on to her wrists, stopping her. She looked up, but didn’t look frightened or frustrated that first time. She looked, if Fitz had words in his head for this moment, hungered.

Almost as if they had both woken up to the developing shift, Fitz’ hands abandoned her wrists to take ahold of her face, while hers reached for his shoulders. She pulled him closer, parting her knees so he could lean into the side of the bar between. In an instant, Jemma craned her neck forward and satiated her lingering desire. 

Not even a few moments into the kiss, Fitz’ hands moved from cupping her face to sliding down the sides of her body. He hooked his fingers into the hem of her jeans and squeezed until her hips moved forward. She nearly slipped off the edge of the bar but a quick adjustment on her part saved her from the fall. Fitz reared back from kissing her and without opening his eyes found his way to the knave of her neck. As he worked deep kisses into her flesh with accompanying swirls from his tongue, Jemma moaned. The guttural vibration from her throat egged Fitz on, and his hands slid from the hem of her jeans to the button and zipper.

Jemma leaned back ever so slightly in response, her hands splayed out behind her on the bar top to balance herself. As Fitz undid her jeans, she echoed and brought a hand to his trousers. With her hand brushing up against his crotch, she could easily feel his erection fight against the layers of clothing. She pulled herself a bit upright, Fitz eagerly following and his lips remaining practically suctioned to her neck. His tongue led the way to behind her ear, and Jemma shivered from both the sensation and the water still dripping from his hair. Fitz slipped her jeans off her hips, looping his fingers under the elastic of her underwear to bring them down with the pants. To slip the jeans to her knees, his mouth descended from behind her ear, back to her neck and then to her exposed clavicle. Jemma arched her back forward. Her hands shook as she pulled the tag on his zipper downwards and to simplify the task, Fitz took care of shimmying his jeans to his ankles. 

Jemma placed a hand underneath his chin to bring his lips back up to her, to which he followed accordingly. She bit her bottom lip, and stared longingly at his reddened lips. Their breaths were already heightened, panting against the soft music in the background. And just as Jemma was about to find out if Fitz liked dirty talk, his lips were on hers again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. So listen up. I haven't written smut in ages, and I also don't think I'm that good at it....In addition, I wrote the majority of it at work so I wasn't in the proper mindset to write a salacious scene, but I needed to get it done.
> 
> And you know what else?   
> The scene is not over ;)


End file.
